A damned bystander is all I am. I feel my rage boiling, but outwardly I remain calm. I stand apart from the others in the chill grey of the dawn, in the autumn twilight.
A great black cloak is draped across my shoulders it offers me nothing, no warmth, no comfort. Some feet away is my mother the queen, muffled and truth to tell poorly disguised. We do not speak.
The seconds stand in a huddle discussing the coming event. I glance across at Julian he seems calm as always his stocky form now clad only in leaf green, shirt and hose, his feet encased as ever in his white scaled boots, his armour gone this is a matter of honour after all. Across from him stands Captain Daker his tall athletic form clad in grey, it should be black this will be his funeral day one way or the other.
[I]Bastard![/I] Eric's words on the day of his fall come back to me. Others have used that word with me, now Daker. Why? True I was conceived during my father's weakened final year, but I was definitely conceived while he still lived. No this scum, this [I]Captain [/I] Daker, his lies will be punished today, Julian will have his recompense, we all three will.
To think that Daker would suggest that Julian and my mother were... had been... No I cannot think of it, it is too much.
Ah, the seconds move to the respective parties, they explain something both men nod. Julian is... Julian. Calm, almost cold. Daker swaggers slightly but he is afraid I see it. It should be me there in Julian's place. [U]My[/U] honour was besmirched, not just Julian's and mother's. Damn Benedict for interfering.
The seconds move away and one man presents Daker with a choice of swords, he chooses the lighter blade, fool, it won't matter I've seen Julian in action, you are a dead man. I shuffle my feet, is it the cold of the dawn or anticipation of bloodshed?
Julian's second hands him the second blade, Julian tests it's balance for a second or two then stands ready. The seconds ask the formula questions, Julian refuses, his honour must be satisfied. Daker stands calmly or seems so. The seconds depart to the sidelines. They call an en guard. Julian and Daker move forward to comply.
Quicker dammit, I feel ready to lunge forward and drive Daker's head against the nearest flagstone. My heart pounds with anger and excitement, mother stands as still as young tree, which barely moves in the breeze, a grey ghost a statue.
The two antagonists move closer to the engage position, sword blades touching, the seconds call for the duel to begin. Daker brushes Julian's blade to the side and lunges in, very fast and fluid, but Julian has side-stepped and kicks the man's leg out from under him, Daker falls to the ground. Julian walks away, turns his back and then turns to face the fool who struggles to rise. So fast, so fluid his he, so clumsy is Daker by comparison. Daker comes in more warily now, he tries a thrust to the mid-section, Julian parries, no riposte? Daker tries again high and to the shoulder, Julian sways to avoid the thrust and parries the cut that follows. No counterattacks from Julian.
Daker, Daker, fool that you are. you will die as a lesson, Julian means to demonstrate the reward that rumourmongers will receive. Five minutes, ten... Daker is tiring, Julian barely raising a sweat. Had the situation been different I could even have felt sympathy for the poor shadowling. At last! As Daker launches an attack once more, Julian moves with lightning speed and grace, a short powerful parry and beat, Daker's blade flies high and wide, Julian's blade descends in a crescent, a dark patch appears on Daker's left thigh, spreads and attains a sanguinely crimson cast. Julian steps back lightly and begins to circle, Daker puts his left hand to his thigh a look of pain and dawning terror appears. No mercy for you my fine rabble rousing cavalier. Daker comes to guard again, gamely he moves in attempting to fight a Prince of Amber!
Julian evades his attacks at every turn, Daker is pummelled and gashed, he has endured twenty minutes of pain and humiliation. He can barely stand now. His face is ashen, clammy with sweat and his own blood.
Julian looks across toward my mother; the hooded head dips, indicating her consent. Julian nods in return and calmly beats Daker's blade aside and neatly runs him through. As Daker falls Julian turns away, and makes his way without preamble to his horse, mother is already leaving, her servants about her. I watch as Daker's seconds move forward and retrieve the offal that was once a man.